Shadows Of His Soul
by Tarma Hartley
Summary: Based on an artwork by Nim (and on her Mafia/Baker AU comics) and an anonymous request on Tumblr. In a moment of anger, Mafia don Miles Edgeworth gives a fateful order... and the wheels of a tragedy are set in motion... Mafia/Baker AU
1. Prelude To A Tragedy

**AWESOME FREAKIN A THUMBNAIL ARTWORK IS A PIECE BY Nim AND IS USED WITH PERMISSION. THANKS! :)  
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 **For Nim & Anonymous Requester.**

 **Based on a Mafia/Baker AU artwork by nimpnawakproduction (and on her Mafia/Baker AU comics, as well) on Tumblr and an anonymous requester. This fic is dedicated to them, with grateful thanks. :)**

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 _A/N: I do not own Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth or Dick Gumshoe; they belong to CAPCOM. The filler plot is mine as are Francis and Thomas McClary, the McKay family and Maura McKay.  
_

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My very first Mafia/Baker AU fic! :) I placed the story in Chicago-for its past history with organized crime-and I also used a little bit of history here, as well. Those who are familiar with Chicago in the 20's and 30's will recognize the address; 2212 North Clark Street used to be the location of the S-M-C Cartage Co... the warehouse that was the place of the infamous St. Valentine's Day massacre, February 14, 1929 where seven members of the Moran gang, led by George "Bugsy" Moran, were gunned down in cold blood. Although he was in Florida at the time of the murders, and was never arrested for the crime-he was arrested later on tax evasion charges-it is thought that it was Al "Scarface" Capone who ordered the hit. (Moran himself certainly thought so)

It was meant to wipe out both Moran and his gang who had been thorns in Capone's side for some time but Moran was late to arrive at the meeting so he wasn't there when the others were killed.

Anyway, hope you enjoy. I really love this AU and plan on writing more in the time to come! :)

Not beta read.

Thanks to my readers and all those who have favourited, reviewed, story alerted, favourite author or author alerted me. I appreciate it more than I can say! :)

 **EXTRA** Special thanks to Nim, for her **AWESOME** Mafia/Baker AU comics and the artwork in question, and the anonymous requester who's request spawned the comic which led to the inspiration for my fic!

 **EXTRA EXTRA** Special thanks to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all his help, support, advice, the title, nagging (when necessary) and encouragement! I appreciate it more than I can say! Love you! Comments are appreciated and constructive criticism is welcomed. I will probably change some things at some point; always room for improvement! -

Mafia/Baker AU, Tragedy, male/male relationships, Phoenix x Edgeworth

Sources will appear in my profile.

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 _October 23_ _rd_  
 _Miles Edgeworth's Office_  
 _Upper West Side_  
 _Chicago, Illinois_  
 _2 P.M._

Mr. Edgeworth was in a bad mood and Gumshoe knew that _always_ meant trouble, noting that he looked like a hungry tiger as he paced up and down in front of his desk in his office, shivering when he caught a glimpse of the stormy look on his face. _That_ didn't bode well; he couldn't help but wonder, as he watched his boss making a groove in the floor, exactly _what_ it was that had set him off _this_ time.

He was lounging in an easy chair in his office, where Mr. Edgeworth had called him to come in, wondering why he'd asked him to meet him. It was his day off today so he assumed that there must have been a good reason for it.

He thought for awhile before remembering that it might have been that business with the McKay crime family on the West Upper side. He wasn't entirely certain exactly _when_ that had started but that bunch had been a thorn in Mr. Edgeworth's side for a _very_ long time and, judging by the hair brained actions of one of the younger members of the family, weren't going to endear themselves to him any time soon. The elder was already on the outs with Mr. Edgeworth for his greed and it seemed like the rest of the family had decided to follow his example.

"I have been patient long enough," he heard him growl, and looked up to see his black-gloved hand clenched into a fist, "and _still_ they defy me! They would be **NOTHING** without _me_!"

Gumshoe gulped and shuddered at the implications. _Perhaps the time when he'd have to deal firmly with them has finally arrived…_

His legal business in the West Upper side had been suffering for a few months-it was never wise to annoy a Mafia don but to openly, and with impudence, skim off the profits of _their_ business interests was akin to suicide- and Mr. Edgeworth, as he knew well, wouldn't long stand for such insolence and would deal with it when the time came. And, when it did, Gumshoe would make certain that he wasn't anywhere near the area. Mr. Edgeworth's retribution was _never_ quick… _or_ pleasant. He'd heard plenty of stories, and witnessed enough himself, to know that the person was in serious trouble. Mr. Edgeworth never forgot, nor forgave, a slight.

"Damn their impudence!" he heard him growl and Gumshoe was brought back firmly to the present as he looked up to see Mr. Edgeworth's grey eyes gazing right _at_ him.

Gumshoe gulped at that penetrating stare, a chill running down his spine. _Oh, hell…_

He opened his mouth to apologize-and hoped he would be forgiven for woolgathering-but he continued with his rant, his black-gloved hands clenching into fists, his face twisted into an ugly mask.

"I have been patient _long_ enough," Edgeworth repeated, his voice rising with each word, "and _still_ they defy me! Well, then, I think that it is time to teach them a lesson that they will soon not forget!"

"What do you intend to do, Sir?" Gumshoe asked, trepidation clear in his voice. He really _didn't_ want to know but...

"I intend to rub out that nasty, cretinous bunch once and for all," he replied grimly, turning slowly to face him once again, "and I need you to do something for me."

Gumshoe didn't like the sound of that. "What?"

"Contact the McClary Brothers and tell them that I have a job for them."

Gumshoe's face drained of color as he sat up straight, his eyes wide.

"You… you _can't_ be serious!" he cried, his hands starting to tremble.

Edgeworth nodded grimly, his mouth twisted into a ghastly parody of a smile. "I _am_."

"But, Sir-!"

He turned a glacial look on him, his clipped voice as cold as ice. "You _will_ do it and you _will_ do it _now_."

His eyes narrowed dangerously, his eyebrow raising. Although Mr. Edgeworth hadn't said a word, the meaning was crystal clear: _I_ don't _have any compunction to move against my enemies and I_ won't _for anyone who disobeys a direct order, either._ Gumshoe looked at the floor, his heart pounding.

"Yes… Sir…" he said haltingly.

"Good." Edgeworth went to the safe, opened it and took out a thick cream colored envelope and handed it to Gumshoe before he turned and walked back to his desk. He leaned against it, his hands laid flat, palms down, on the formica top, his face easing into a feral, satisfied smile.

Gumshoe couldn't help but shudder as he peered at him from the corner of his eye. He never liked it when Mr. Edgeworth was in this kind of mood since he seemed to be be possessed and, quite frankly, he scared him.

"Well?" His irritated voice broke through his thoughts and, without another word, Gumshoe scrambled to his feet and promptly left, slamming the door behind him in his haste to escape.

Edgeworth sighed as he watched him leave, crossing his ankles and arms as he leaned against the side of the desk. He appreciated the good man's loyalty to him but sometimes he couldn't help feel annoyed with his timidity. He knew that there were those who were scared witless of him-after all, one _wouldn't_ survive long in the Underworld if they didn't have a reputation-and he couldn't help but feel a trifle isolated because of it.

He sighed and shook his head, letting the thought of those meddling cretins slide out of his mind and being replaced by something much more pleasant: Phoenix Wright, the charming baker that he had a date with later on that evening. He closed his eyes in pleasure as he thought of the handsome young man who had captured his heart some time ago.

He couldn't help but chuckle over their meeting which seemed to be in the annals of the cheesy, though sweet, romance novel plots: he had stepped into his bakery to get out of the rain-thanks to that blundering idiot, Gumshoe-and had started up a conversation with him after properly greeting him.

He'd been amused with the man's complete obliviousness over who he was-he was surprised that there was someone in Chicago who _didn't_ know of him-but, the longer they talked, and meeting in other places over a period of six months, the more he found that he enjoyed the baker's company. That and those delicious pastries he was so fond of; he was amazed at his skill and found that he went into the shop more often than not, armed with the perfect excuse to justify his presence.

That's something I'm definitely looking forward to, he thought, a genuine smile on his face as he thought of the evening to come. _I wonder where Wright will want to go to this evening?_

He let his thoughts wander as he stared out the window, his face wreathed in a dazzling smile.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _2122 North Clark Street_  
 _Chicago, Illinois_  
 _3:30 P.M._

Gumshoe stepped hesitantly into the black granite hewn building at the corner of 2122 North Clark Street, taking a deep breath before he entered the ornate front door, his heart pounding in his chest.

He hated coming here; it had such a depressing and oppressive feel to it; even grass refused to grow on the property and, knowing the area's bloody history, it _didn't_ surprise him.

He shivered as he made his way quickly down the hallway to the small office at the far corner in the back. He looked at the black block letters on the door: **MCCLARY BROTHERS, INC.** It gave no indication as to what the true purpose of their enterprises were which, he supposed as he reached out and knocked on the door, was a good thing.

Members of the Mob didn't want people snooping into their private affairs and business so it was good policy to be as vague as possible about the true nature of your business and, whenever possible, to give the appearance of being, at least outwardly, legitimate and legal.

"Come in," a rich, smooth voice called out and he entered quickly, closing the door firmly behind him. He looked into the gloom and saw two figures dressed in matching velvet black pinstripe suits, their shoulder length snow white hair crowned with black fedora hats.

They looked like your stereotypical gangsters but no one had ever, to his knowledge, said so straight to their faces. They were a pair of vicious, coldblooded, killers and the best assassins the Underworld had at its command. By the looks of their rather ornate furnishings and trappings, business was indeed good.

"Ah, Gumshoe," the taller of the two, Francis, called out, waving him inside, a cold smile on his face as they exchanged the perfunctory greetings, his hazel eyes glittering. "Welcome to our humble abode."

"Indeed, it is good to see you again," the shorter, and stouter brother, Thomas quipped, his black eyes also glittering with a sinister, and cold, light.

"T-Thank you," Gumshoe replied, a slight quiver in his voice. The fact that he was afraid of these psychotic twosome was evident and it clearly amused them.

"Oh, do sit down, Dick," Francis quipped, waving his hand lazily at a high backed velvet chair close to the desk by the window that looked out into the street, "and tell us your business here." He glanced at Thomas before that cold gaze turned back to him. "I suspect that Mr. Edgeworth has need of our… _services_?"

Gumshoe nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Ah," Thomas purred as he stepped into the dim light that illuminated the office and Gumshoe couldn't help but wonder _why_ they kept it so dim in here. Maybe some of the rumors he'd heard about them were true... "I'm pleased to hear that! My brother and I were getting a little… _restless_ … over the lack of business lately." He grinned evilly. "Your arrival, just when we were about to wander off and find _something_ to amuse ourselves, is, indeed, fortuitous!"

Gumshoe swallowed hard and merely nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It was difficult, at best, to see much of anything in here with the light so low but he supposed that they had their reasons and the last thing he wanted to do was to ask them. He just wanted to do what Mr. Edgeworth had ordered him to do and get the hell out of this creepy place, and as far away from _them,_ as possible.

"What does he want us to do?" Francis brought the conversation back to the point of the reason why he was here. "Or, should I say, _whom_ does he wish us to kill since I assume _this is_ the reason for your visit today?"

Gumshoe gaped at him in astonishment, his eyes widening. To say something so blithely, and off the cuff, like that unnerved him and chilled him to his very marrow, making him doubly anxious to finish Mr. Edgeworth's business with them and get as far away from Clark Street as he could as quickly as possible.

"H-How… did you…?" he faltered, closing his mouth quickly, a blush rising in his cheeks as both Thomas and Francis laughed, a harsh, brittle sound.

"Do give us credit for having _some_ intelligence, Dick," Francis chided, his eyes narrowing into evil little slits that Gumshoe swore bored into his very soul. "We know _all_ about Mr. Edgeworth's quarrel with the McKay family and knew it would only be a matter of time before that impudent little puppy Brendon overstepped his boundaries and gave him yet _another_ reason to _want_ to have him rubbed out."

He shrugged as he sat back in his chair and Thomas sat on the edge of the right hand corner of the desk, sinister grimaces on both men's faces. "Now then, what does Mr. Edgeworth wish us to do? Whom does he wish us to dispose of?"

"The entire McKay Family," he replied quickly, opening his jacket and retrieving a thick cream colored envelope and placing it quickly on the desk. "Here is the down payment; the rest will be delivered once the job is done."

Francis nodded in satisfaction as he picked up the envelope, opened it and counted the thick wad of crisp one hundred dollar bills that were tucked inside.

"Mr. Edgeworth is, indeed, generous to give us such a handsome price for a family who count no more than gnats on the Underworld radar." Francis grinned maliciously. "We'll be happy to do this for him. Any time he wants it done?"

Gumshoe shook his head. "All he said was that he wanted it taken care of once and for all; he _didn't_ specify a time."

"I would suspect that he would like us to take care of it sooner rather than later," Thomas piped up, his tone excited at the prospect of rubbing out the McKay family. "I believe there was some prattle about the McKay family going out to dinner to celebrate the patriarch's birthday in an out of the way restaurant somewhere on St. Charles street." He grinned savagely, a strange, cold light in his eyes. "Perhaps we should make it our business to pay them a visit this evening… while they are all attending?"

Francis nodded in approval at his brother's suggestion. "A _very_ good idea, brother." He glanced at Gumshoe. "Would this be acceptable to Mr. Edgeworth, Dick?"

He nodded. "As long as you get it done, I don't think it really matters to him the method you use in executing it."

"Excellent!" Francis clapped his hands in delight and reached behind him for the silver tray that lay on the side table, three snifter glasses and a crystal carafe of an amber colored liquid inside. "This calls for a celebration to toast our continued employment and for _such_ a plum assignment!"

He took off the top and poured three glasses, handing one to his brother who took it with a frosty smile and offered Gumshoe the last, his eyes daring him to refuse. Gumshoe accepted it quickly, looking at the glass as if it were a poisonous viper.

Both men chuckled as Francis filled his own snifter before putting the top back on the carafe and setting it to the side. He picked it up and held it aloft.

"To Mr. Edgeworth," he intoned solemnly as both Thomas and Gumshoe, the latter with great reluctance, held their glasses aloft, "our most generous employer! Long may he reign in Chicago!"

"To Mr. Edgeworth!" Thomas and Gumshoe responded, lifting the glasses to their lips and downed it in one gulp. Gumshoe coughed as some of the brandy went down the wrong pipe, both Francis and Thomas teasing him about not being able to hold his liquor.

He had a sickly smile on his face but took the ribbing in good humor, mentally counting the seconds before he could leave this awful place. They kept him for a little while longer-perhaps they enjoyed seeing him squirm-before they finally let him go, hearing their laughter echoing as he raced out the door, closing it and leaning back against it, trying to catch his breath.

He couldn't help but feel that he had just escaped with his skin and, as he quickly exited the building, he could still hear their laughter echoing in the silent street.

He couldn't shake the persistent feeling of unease he'd been plagued with ever since his arrival here although he supposed that could be because of the location. He wasn't exactly certain _why_ but he had a really bad feeling about the whole enterprise. If he had his druthers, he would have turned around and gone back in to cancel it but he knew that he couldn't. He'd been given a direct order from Mr. Edgeworth himself and he knew that there would be hell to pay if he disobeyed him. He'd seen what had happened to those who stymied him.

He sighed. His mouth was turned down at the corners, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets as he quickly crossed the street to where his car was parked. _I've done what you sent me to do, Mr. Edgeworth._ _I only hope that you don't end up regretting it._


	2. Shadows Fall

_October 23rd_  
 _St. Charles Street_  
 _Chicago, Illinois_  
 _6 P.M._

Phoenix smiled as he rode his bicycle down St. Charles street, his head full of thoughts about Mr. Edgeworth and the date they were going on later this evening. He looked up at the night sky, the stars shimmering high above him and that made him inexplicably happy as did the thought of Miles Edgeworth as well. He couldn't help but wonder where it was that his boyfriend was going to take him but, wherever they ended up going, he knew that he would enjoy it. Miles always had such great places to take him and, he had to admit, that his horizons were certainly being expanded.

He grinned wryly as he pedaled past the street lamp. _Maybe we can be by ourselves for once and not have other people hanging around..._

He still didn't know what it was, exactly, that he did for a living but he surmised that it must be something important if he had bodyguards and a chauffeur.

 _I wonder if we'll go to that show opening up at the theater? He did talk of us attending the premiere so maybe we might._ He smiled softly as he let himself coast along, the crisp Autumn air rushing past his face. _Whatever it will turn out to be, I'll be happy._

He rode on for a few feet before his pleasant thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a godawful noise that sounded like a bomb going off in the distance. He braked hard, nearly falling off his bike in the process, peering into the dim light beyond the street lamp. The sound had come from somewhere in the secluded corner of St. Charles Street and Phoenix knew that there was a posh restaurant where some of the wealthier families of the city went to on a regular basis.

He frowned. _What on earth was going on and what happened?_

He had a vague feeling of foreboding but he couldn't turn away, especially if there were people who may have been hurt in the blast. Taking a deep breath, he rode slowly toward where the noise was coming from, his unease increasing the closer he got to the restaurant grounds but he forced himself to go further. If someone had been injured, he reasoned as he headed deeper into the gloom, he had his cellphone on him and could call for help; from the loud racket, he felt it was quite likely that people had been hurt and he couldn't live with himself if he turned away now.

When he had arrived at the winding road hat lead to the restaurant grounds, he was startled to see a scene of absolute bedlam unfolding in front of him: people were running out from the restaurant and were scattering in all directions and he could see, to his horror, that some were lying motionless on the ground _._

His eyes widened in stunned disbelief and horror when he saw two men dressed in black gunning down the helpless people as they ran in a vain attempt to escape, shooting them where they fell. Others had dropped to their knees and were begging for mercy but their pleas fell on deaf ears as they, too, were shot in the face from close range.

As Phoenix stood there, rooted to the spot and unable to move, he saw a young teenage girl running toward him and, behind her in hot pursuit, another man with a coldblooded look on his face.

"Help me!" she screamed as she dodged and weaved in a desperate attempt to shake the man who was pursuing her, her hand stretching out as he stood there staring at her. "Please, help me! **HELP ME**!"

Her frightened eyes lit on Phoenix and she ran toward him, screaming piteously for him to help her but he couldn't have saved her even if he had wanted to; in one breath, the man was on top of her. He watched as she raised her other hand in a futile attempt to protect herself but it did her no good as he simply lifted his Mauser handgun and shot her pointblank in the face.

Phoenix cried out in horror at the girl's execution and that turned the attention of the man in black right on _him._

Oh, hell!

"Hey!" the man in black yelled and it was that shout that broke the paralysis that held him rooted to the spot. He turned and quickly rode as fast as he could, feeling bullets whizzing by his head until he finally turned the corner and headed down the street. His heart pounded in his chest as he fled, praying that the men in black didn't pursue him for, as he had witnessed, they wouldn't have hesitated to kill him as they had to those other poor souls.

 _I have to call the police!_ He pulled out his cellphone and dialed 9-1-1 quickly, leaving his name and explaining briefly what had happened and giving them the address before hanging up.

 _I don't know who they are but I know trouble when I see it. what did those poor people do to deserve that?_

He pedaled for all he was worth and was soon lost in the darkness.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _October 23_ _rd_  
 _Miles Edgeworth's Office_  
 _Upper West Side_  
 _Chicago, Illinois_  
 _7 P.M._

"You did **WHAT**?!" Edgeworth couldn't believe what he was hearing as the McClary brothers stood in front of him, chastened looks on both of their faces as they reported back to him over what had transpired at the restaurant. "How the hell did you let that witness get away and, for that matter, how in the hell did they see it?! You were _supposed_ to take care of it quietly and _now_ you tell me that there was a _witness_?!"

 _How could they have been so stupid and careless?!_

"We're sorry, Mr. Edgeworth…"

"I don't care if you're sorry!" He turned on them, white hot rage on his face, his hands clenched into fists. "Take care of the damned problem and get rid of the damned witness while you're at it!"

Francis opened his mouth to speak but Edgeworth's murderous glare stopped him and he snapped his mouth shut, his face turning a dirty red.

"I want you to go and clean up the mess you made and then get rid of the witness; I don't care how you do it. **JUST DO IT** … and **DON'T** come back until you do!"

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth," Thomas whispered quietly. "We'll take care of it."

"See that you do." Edgeworth turned his back on them, his voice glacial. "I expect this… _problem._.. to be taken care of within the hour and make sure no one sees you this time." He turned back to look at them. "Now get the hell out of my office and **DON'T** screw up again!"

They nodded in unison as they left. Once they had gone, Edgeworth sank into his chair, rubbing his tired eyes with his fingers. The botched hit on the McKay family had brought the police right to his door and attention was focused on _him_ , which was the last thing he wanted.

He'd managed to fend them off and he was certain that they had believed him when he denied any knowledge of it but one could never be sure and he certainly didn't want them to find the person who had witnessed it.

 _Damn them both to the lowest of the nine Hells! How could they have been so stupid?!_ He gritted his teeth. _I'm not paying them to mess up things, I'm paying them to take care of it! Damn them!_

He took a deep breath as he sat down at his desk, staring out the window at the gathering darkness. At least he had his date with Phoenix to look forward to and the thought of the baker always brought a smile to his face.

 _I think we'll go to the theater tonight… there's a show there that I think Phoenix would love to see. Perhaps we'll have dinner first at that new restaurant that opened up downtown; I know that he'd mentioned it in passing the other day._

Edgeworth lost himself in those very pleasant thoughts, looking forward to the evening out to come. He couldn't wait to meet up with him and was counting down the hour when they were to meet.

 _ **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

 _Downtown Chicago_  
 _Phoenix Wright's Bakery_  
 _Chicago, Illinois_  
 _7 P.M._

Francis and Thomas walked glumly down the street, pulling their trench-coat collars closer as the biting wind tore at them.

They were lucky to have escaped relatively unscathed after their botched hit although this made them more determined than ever to find the young man who had witnessed it and carry out Mr. Edgeworth's order to the letter.

They searched diligently but were, at this point, unable to find the person that Thomas had seen when he killed young Maura McKay. They'd asked around and found out the person's name-Phoenix Wright-and that he was a local baker with a shop downtown.

Information in hand, they traveled down to the bakery. They noticed that it was relatively empty and waited for the final three customers to leave before they made their way in, closing and locking the door behind them.

Phoenix had turned when he heard the bell chime and his words of welcome froze on his lips when he saw _who_ was standing there in front of him.

Phoenix swallowed hard. "You? What are-?" He couldn't finish.

"You have caused us a great deal of trouble, Mr. Wright," Francis intoned solemnly as he brought his Mauser revolver out of his pocket, "but we're here to take care of this _little_ problem for Mr. Edgeworth. _Personally_."

Phoenix's eyes widened at the name.

 _Miles-?_ That was all he had time to think before Francis shot him pointblank in the chest and he slowly fell to his knees, his eyes wide with pained surprise, toppling over onto his right side, drawing in gasping, painful breaths, his face frozen in shock. He lifted his hand toward them, perhaps to defend himself or in a placating gesture but they simply gazed dispassionately at him, their eyes glittering.

"Goodbye, Mr. Wright," Thomas said grimly, stepping forward and shooting Phoenix in the head, killing him instantly. They watched in detached silence as he rolled over onto his back, blood seeping out of the wound in his left temple and waited until his body stilled.

They nodded in satisfaction as they quickly left the shop, closing the door softly behind them. All was well and the job was done. They congratulated themselves as they hurried to report to Mr. Edgeworth that the witness was dead and all was well.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _October 23_ _rd_  
 _Miles Edgeworth's Office_  
 _Upper West Side_  
 _Chicago, Illinois:_  
 _9:30 P.M._

Edgeworth looked at his watch for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening as he had for the past hour and a half. He was dressed in his usual outfit-tailored black slacks, white shirt with a red tie, a black vest and shoes, his white trench-coat draped loosely over his shoulders-and kept looking out of the window that overlooked the Chicago River. Phoenix was _never_ late for a date. He hadn't arrived and he hadn't called which he normally did when he ran a little late. And he was very worried.

 _Where could he be? He should have been here an hour ago! Why hasn't he called?_ He paced the floor, his unease growing. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something _very_ wrong although he tried to dismiss it.

His head jerked up when he heard the door open slowly a half hour later and his eyes lit up as he turned to greet whom he _thought_ to be Phoenix.

"Phoenix, thank heaven!" he exclaimed, his voice relieved. "Where have you been? You're-" The words froze in his throat when he saw Gumshoe standing there in the doorway, his countenance grim.

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

He froze, swallowing hard. He didn't like Gumshoe's tone of voice and he knew that whatever it was that he had to tell him, the news _wasn't_ good.

"What is it?" His voice was quiet and his face had gone very pale.

 _Please, no…don't… It… isn't…is it?_

"It's-" He paused, taking a deep breath before he continued "-Mr. Wright." Gumshoe blinked back tears and opened his mouth to say something but Edgeworth didn't hear him as he fell into his seat, his face white to the lips and trembling. He already knew what Gumshoe was going to say...

"He's… he's... been... _murdered_ , Sir."

He bit down on his lower lip to keep from crying out. "When?" His voice was hoarse.

"About 7 P.M." Gumshoe stopped, swallowing hard, his voice quivering. "It… was a… _hit_."

"Who?" Edgeworth scrunched his eyes shut.  
 _  
Oh, dear God… please… please don't let it…!_

Gumshoe sighed. "According to a friend of mine on the police force, he had witnessed the hit on the McKay family earlier in the evening and he thinks it was the person or persons who were responsible for the McKay's murders who killed him." He stopped for a moment to compose himself. "He called it in soon after it happened... and he assumes that they caught up with him later on." He blinked back tears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Edgeworth..."

Edgeworth moaned, his heart shattering. He had ordered the McClary brothers to kill the _witness_ , never dreaming that the witness was _Phoenix_.

"What… have I…done?" he whispered over and over, tears pouring down his face. Gumshoe put his hand on his shoulder in order to comfort him but he shook it off impatiently, his body shaking with suppressed sobs. He could hear him stepping back and standing silently behind him.

He was dead… and it was all _his_ fault. He'd ordered them to kill the witness and now his beloved's blood was on his hands.

 _All my fault... its all my fault… I..._ killed _him…_

He stood up suddenly, his tear-stained face white.

"Take me to him," he ordered and Gumshoe looked shocked.

"Take you to him? But, Sir-"

" **DO IT**!" he barked and Gumshoe hastened to obey. They drove to the bakery and entered the back door. The shop was pitch black and silent as they entered, Edgeworth's heart heavy as they made their way to the front, stopping short as they spotted Phoenix's body lying there. His head was surrounded by a pool of blood, a red stain spread out on his chest and a thick line of dried blood that went down the side of his face from the bullet wound in his head to his closed left eye.

Edgeworth moaned again as he sank to his knees, weeping loudly.

"Phoenix, oh my sweet Phoenix... I'm so, _so_ sorry!" He wept, sitting down hard, reaching out and lifting Phoenix's head slightly off the bloody floor. "I…I… didn't **KNOW** it was you... I... I _didn't_!" His heart ached as he sat there, looking down at the result of his angry order. He'd had no idea that the witness was Phoenix and he wished with all his heart that he could take it back.

How could he live with himself knowing that he had ordered the man he loved to be killed? How could he deal with the shadows of his own soul, knowing that he'd had someone who meant the world to him murdered simply because he'd accidentally seen something he shouldn't?

"Phoenix…."

Shadows descended as he sat there, weeping over the dead body of his lover, Gumshoe standing silent guard near them.

 **~FIN~**


End file.
